This book was many, many things and the one thing none of them were was coherent. I was always in a state of bewilderment trying to figure out why something was happening and why people talked about one thing as if it was unchangeable when it seemed a simple solution to the dilemma was there. It jumped and skipped and generally had a madcap adventure and a lark and a grand old time but with none of it connecting to the next in a way that created a clear and rational narrative. It reminded me of nothing so much as a very strange dream.

Why was their family hating the prince when it was the bloody godmothers that caused the mess?

Are the girls the cause of the rhyme about their name or does the rhyme control their fates? Was Sunday supposed to have written the rhyme about her and her sisters?

Why had not Joy stopped her sister from murdering women for the last few centuries? Hmm?

There are many fairytale references throughout, which are fun to spot. The writing is at its best, for me, when we are reading Sunday's journal. But the main body of the text was just so outrageously illogical and sporadic, without any thought of perhaps Explaining things, that I would not recommend this book.